Arrr! See CONTENTS for links to the 125 chapters of The Monstaville Memoirs plus introductions, conclusions, postscripts and appendices. This treasure trove also includes a collection of articles offering further insights into the themes explored in the trilogy. Namely, managing suffering and conflict (dealing with hostile people if you are nervous, sensitive or shy) and learning not to react

Pages

Thursday, 22 January 2015

Monstaville Book III. Monstaville 3

Monstaville 3

.

“See, this
year’s a pretty cool year. This year’s a year based in divine will and
manifestation. So, I know that every single one of you has gotten to experience
and play with something we call your ‘DA’: your Designated Asshole. You see,
the universe rearranged itself according to your pictures of reality, which
means you are the director and the writer of the play. Everybody you encounter
is playing a role in your play. And, the way you can tell a DA - this person
comes into your space and you just wanna, Oh God [sounds of angst], totally,
wanna deny: ‘You - you are not God. You! Everybody else is God but you.’
That’s your DA. And the way you know you’ve got a DA is pitch ‘em out of your
life - two weeks later you get somebody else does the same exact shit. You know
you’ve got it then. So, it’s a ‘divine mastery manifestation and will’ year. It
is a year where oneness is coming together at levels humanity has never known.
In the midst of wanting to kill everybody, of course. So, I know you’ve all got
to deal with your DAa’s.”

- Tashira Tachi-ren (excerpt from the ‘No Rules’ talk at the Star Visions
Conference, December 1996).

In 1998,
I managed to find an affordable flat
to rent just outside East London (later to
become effectively part of it as people spread outwards into the suburbs).
Finally, at the age of 32, I had my own place, albeit still rented accommodation.
The flat was unfurnished, stripped bare, and I decorated my bachelor pad in my
own style. A married friend refers to it as my ‘fun pad,’ where I live
independently and do what I want. No longer did I have to put up with a
landlord’s ghastly tastes. It could reflect my rich inner life; sensitive,
artistic soul that I am.

I had moved to London on this occasion in 1993 and was
quickly made homeless when the company I’d started working for moved its base
to Clapton. I took a gamble, leaving my grotty bedsit on Edgware Road to sleep on a friend’s floor
in nearby Hackney for a while. Alas, an old shoulder injury acquired in India back in
1991 prevented me from carrying heavy bags of merchandise and I therefore had
to quit.

I eventually moved into a shared
house in Forest Gate where I lived in a room on the ground floor.
Unfortunately, getting drunk was a popular pastime for three of the four other
tenants (who could conveniently retire to their quiet rooms to sleep).
Eventually, the raucous noise from the lounge next to my room became unbearable
and I was obliged to ask them, in the early hours one day, to let me sleep. One
of the drunks (English, and an ex-mod) reacted aggressively, claiming it was
their right to make whatever noise they liked. Exasperated, I had no choice but
to move out. Through a friend, I found a tiny room in a shared house in an area
of East London that was, at the time anyway, very civilised.

“I
knew I shoulda taken that left turn at Albuquerque!” - Bugs Bunny (Warner
Brothers).

My peaceful existence there was
interrupted on a couple of occasions. A coarse cockney guy who rented one of
the rooms briefly loved to play loud music on occasion which brought us into
conflict. He decided to confront me after returning home from playing football because he
then felt physically energised. Consequently, he appeared confident that his
threatening display of power and his readiness for a fight would enable him to
get his own way. He wanted to play his music loud without any consideration for
either myself or the girl in the other upstairs room. I just smiled at him
calmly because I could see exactly what was happening. He moved out shortly
afterwards (this was, in fact, 1996, I believe!). An Australian girl with whom
I got on pretty well also lived there for a while. I once asked her English
boyfriend if he would mind turning his music down. He threatened back: ‘I’ve been
arrested by the police (you know)!’ As if I was addressing a notorious criminal
and should watch my step! Apart from that, we enjoyed an atmosphere of harmony
as tenants. I had lived in shared housing in various parts of the country for
about ten years and never once experienced any such difficulties with my fellow
tenants.

While
settling into my new flat, decorating and having brought my belongings back
from a friend’s home in Cambridge, my ten-year [plus] endurance test began
[Retrospective note: “The last 10 years of brutality” as Lauren C. Gorgo refers
to the struggles of all Starseeds on the Ascension path, ‘The New Day has
Dawned!’ 11 November 2010, www.consciousco-creationalcoaching.blogspot.com/2010/11/new-day-has-dawned.html).] The English couple to the left
were pleasant neighbours who eventually discovered that the price of their
property had quadrupled in value since their purchase. The husband was due to
retire so they moved to Spain
rather briskly a few years after my arrival. The area was changing swiftly and
since they left the property has been owned by two families from Bangladesh. The
neighbours on my right were a Pakistani household and the flat above me was
occupied by an Irish architect who lived in Ireland and stayed in London every
few weeks on business.

As to why I wrote this song
I ain't done nothing wrong, but I'm unhappy
Question: Do you blame your life on life
And say it all began before the nappy?
Hey, hey, take me away, hey, hey, take me away

-
Ian Dury and the Blockheads (from ‘Hey, hey, take me away’ written by
Ian Dury and Mick Gallagher from the 1980 album, Laughter).

Once I had
flattened the garden and the grass seed had grown into a splendid lawn I
started doing tai chi on it a few times a week. A week or two later, whilst practising, I
heard laughter coming from the teenage daughters upstairs in the house next
door to my right. Shortly after this incident, while I was practising again,
the youngest daughter suddenly opened her bedroom window and turned up the
music on her stereo either to get my attention or to disturb my concentration
and prevent me from continuing. The father interrupted her apparent act of
sabotage, telling her to stop and she did, but that was the first and last time
I heard him do anything to discipline his children. The eldest daughter and the
son had left home before I moved in leaving two daughters at home and another
girl (I think) who was later replaced by another girl who seemed to have
arrived fresh from Pakistan and who gave birth to a son not too long afterwards.

There was relative peace for about a
year, including the occasional friendly exchange over the fence. Increasingly,
however, when I sang a few tunes with my acoustic guitar (usually for 15 to 30
minutes around midday), the
neighbours would turn up their television so loud I could hardly hear myself,
or else they would turn the volume up to extremes later that day. I had never
encountered such behaviour before and found it desperately inhibiting. So much
so that I simply stopped playing at some point and lost touch with my music. At
the end of 2006, I suddenly broke down as all the suppressed emotion
overwhelmed me and poured out. My emotional body (or ‘Inner Child’) seemed to
be talking through me from beyond my adult identity. It repeated the words, ‘You
destroyed my music’ several times. It seemed to be directed more towards life
and the universe for placing me in such a heartless environment. It has often
occurred to me that I have been living in a form of prison cell here yet spared
complete isolation and restraint. It has, nevertheless, been psychologically
tortuous for one as sensitive and creative as I. The suffering over such a long
period of time has built up and, when I have been close to maximum capacity, it
has taken only one small event to throw me over the edge. I feel that my magical
Inner Child has always felt utterly helpless in relation to the outside world.
It is as though my emotional self exists in a womb and has no influence over
what occurs outside yet cannot help but be affected by it. It is a vicious
circle, I guess. The beliefs and circumstances both remain negative because
nothing ever improves externally. It has to start from within and that requires
transmuting the conditioning and energies from the past and empowering that part
of myself. [Retrospective note: At a Heart Blessing, St. Germain counselled
someone to send green heart energy down to their Solar Plexus from the Heart
Chakra. This, he explained, was intended to reassure his Inner Child that all
is well. That twelve-year-old believes it knows, ‘This is how life is,’ he
said. He recommended that they both work together on creating something new.
This was, by the way, one of the numerous occasions on which St. Germain made
sure that I was listening…lol. It appears that in order to comfort the Inner
Child at an earlier age it is more appropriate to rub the belly (or touch it
lovingly), or to move the feeling of tenderness in the heart “down into the
belly (your emotional centre),” a practice that is “VERY effective in calming
the emotional body.” (‘Emotional Healing’ by Your Guardian Angel,
www.earthrainbownetwork.com/Archives2003/LightSeries45.htm)].

At one stage, I had two jobs, more
debt that I could handle (I invested in a trade as a mini-cab driver in an
attempt to clear a small debt but it ended in disaster). I was enduring loud
noise from the family next door late at night (and sometimes very loud banging
with a hammer in the mornings) as well as loud stomping around on a wooden
floor by the man upstairs who would also crash brutally down the stairs at 5.30
a.m. in a deliberate attempt to disturb my sleep as I was a cab driver who
usually arrived home late. I believe this guy, to whom I refer in my journal as
a ‘monster,’ was trying to force me to move out. Prior to his intimidating
behaviour he had moved around more considerately, without making much sound at
all. In addition, I was also depressed about having had to stop working on my
books. I took four years off after a year-long period of depression culminating
in me not being able to move my body properly (caused by my frustration at
being unable to juggle a job and an attempt to complete a book). My body shut
down for a few days (I was able to pull myself out of this state by using the
power of love - for an Anglo-Indian Sikh girl as it happens). I concluded that
it was not worth continuing to struggle to write while my job took up most of
my time and energy. I was unable to juggle the two. I felt myself to be a
failure for the first two or three years of that period, firstly having failed
to earn a living through my songs and then secondly repeating this failure with
my books, none of which I had managed to complete despite having found an agent
who was pushing me to finish something. I did not take up the cross again until
I felt there was sufficient space in my life. It was sometime during this
period that kept the journal because my focus was spiritual study and
development.

Socrates (Nick Nolte): “You don’t surrender
your dreams Dan. You surrender the one thing you never have and never will:
control. Accept that you don’t control what happened to you…I told you a
warrior does what he loves.”

- Way of the Peaceful Warrior (directed by Victor Salva, 2006, based
on the novel by Dan Millman).

“I was
shared a very powerful technique to bring out the best in someone ‑ simply
intend or focus your love upon them and say, ‘Thank you for being God to me.’
This then elicits or connects them to that part of themselves that is God,
within and assists them to act from their higher nature.” – A friend.

I got on fine with the Irish guy
upstairs until, after a couple of years, his wife started joining him and
turned the volume of their television up ridiculously high. I never said
anything, realising that it was not something I had to endure all the time.
Then, her parents stayed in the flat for a week and were similarly deaf! I did
not know how long they intended to stay there so towards the end of the week
after constant ‘bombing’ I decided, when the tenant was there, to politely ask
them if they would mind turning the television down late at night. I made no
mention of the fact that it was driving me mad at other times as well. I went
up the stairs to ask at 10.45 p.m. and the guy quietly agreed but, on
reflection, he was evidently concerned about his wife overhearing our brief
conversation (I think, that night, it was his wife, not the parents, who had
the television on so loud). Either his wife took offence or he was proud and
decided to take action to avoid losing face. For, although they switched the
television off there and then, the following night they turned up the volume to
a far more ridiculous level and kept it on until about 1 a.m.

“I
didn’t know he was dead; I thought he was British.” - Woody Allen.

There had once been an incident in
the street (I cannot recall what) and I had gone outside to check it out. The
tenant upstairs came down on his way out and told me that English people always
seem to poke their noses in at the slightest hint of trouble. I replied that
some people never do anything and would happily leave a load of people dying in
the street. So, perhaps they simply didn’t like English people! After the
television ‘episode’ the next time he was down in London I heard a window being smashed. I
couldn’t see anything out of my front window but later that morning the tenant
in the first floor flat informed me that someone had put a brick through the
rear side window of his Mercedes. He implied that I had something to do with it
even though I obviously had not left the house all morning. He was
‘threatening’ to call the police and I sensed intuitively that his motive was
to see how I reacted. Anyway, he moved out after that.

V (Hugo Weaving): What was done to me
created me. It’s a basic principle of the universe that every action will
create an equal and opposing reaction....What was done to me was monstrous.

Evey (Natalie Portman): And they created
a monster.

-
V For Vendetta (directed by James
McTeigne, 2006).

The general absence of life upstairs
had presented me with an opportunity to fend off the growing problem with the
other neighbours. The parents went back to Pakistan for two or three months
during the summer of 1999. While they were away, the television was on
extremely loudly a lot of the time. I eventually responded to this with loud
music, imagining that the daughters (and the son who was also sometimes there)
would turn it down and return to a more civilised volume. After all, I suppose,
this had been their statement to my very brief sessions on the guitar. I felt
was justified since I would usually listen to loud music through my headphones.
I felt that, if they cared nothing for my space, why should I care about
theirs? Early in 2000, they began having family get-togethers late at night. I
was used to going to bed between 10.30 and 11 p.m. and getting up around 7.30
a.m. When I had lived in the room in Wanstead, I would rise at 7.30 a.m. and
enthusiastically switch on my computer to do some work on my books before doing
anything else. The project was my life and passion at the time.

On most days of the week, just as I
laid my head down on the pillow, the party was just starting next door. As you
have probably gathered, the walls and ceilings in this Victorian terraced house
are paper-thin. Consequently, it was impossible to sleep while the shrill
laughter of one of the daughter intermittently pierced not only the wall next
to my bed but penetrated my very bones. The conversation between the family
members itself was loud enough. It was intolerable because I just could not get
to sleep until they retired around 1.30 or 2 a.m., sometimes later. After a
month or two, I got up out of bed and got dressed, took a swig of bourbon to
calm my nerves, and rang on the neighbours’ doorbell. It was about 10.50 at
night. I decided to approach them at a civilised hour regardless of their
sleeping habits. I was extremely humble and polite as I asked if they could
possibly be quieter after 11 p.m. The father, mother and two daughters all
stood there crammed into the doorway with the door half-open. It was like a
human wall that was unable to bring itself to show any sympathy whatsoever. The
older of the two daughters, who was probably around 20 years old at the time,
was aggressively outspoken, telling me that they were not being loud and that
they could do whatever they wanted in their own house. The father just kept
shaking his head and occasionally grumbling the word ‘no.’ Shocked by their
selfish response to my plight, I finally shook my head and smiled. ‘Well,’ I
said, I’ve asked you nicely. I won’t ask nicely next time.’ To be kept awake
till the early hours, night-after-night, by such parties, even without music,
is plain out of order. Once in a while is OK. One has to live! So, this is the
price (and karmic debt, no doubt) I have paid for my freedom all these years
since moving here.

The next day, on my way to work, I
approached the father who was busy cleaning his car. Again, in a courteous tone
of voice, I asked if everything was alright, hoping to discuss the matter in a
civilised way. He said it was not alright and argued with me aggressively,
repeating their attitude that they could do whatever they liked. I said, didn’t
any of them work? To which he replied proudly that his daughter was at college.
Finally, he said that they thought I was mad! Very helpful. So, I realised,
from then on, that no amount of communication was going to have any effect
whatsoever on the situation. Thus, every time they kept me awake, I played loud
music on the stereo the next day before going to work at midday. For one thing, I couldn’t see the point
in wearing headphones if I wished to listen to loud music if they were going to
behave so inconsiderately. And, for another, having not been able to get to
sleep for a few hours and getting up late, I was in a bad mood, feeling angry
and groggy, and felt a more frequent urge to listen to loud music to help
recover from the ordeal in an attempt to wake myself up. The code of conduct
with which I had been brought up - respect for people’s individual space - that
was probably deeply ingrained in my genes, had become meaningless and redundant
under the circumstances. I now realise that I was not going far enough: I was
essentially endeavouring to release the tension that my neighbours had created,
or triggered, in me. I have since learned, however, that shouting is a far more
effective, direct, profound and cathartic method of releasing such tension. It
also provides an opportunity to release any and all tension and negative
emotion stored within myself whatever the source.

“If one does not understand a
person, one tends to regard him as a fool.” - Carl Jung.

It went on pretty much night after
night, day after day, like that for a long time. Eventually, I simply stopped
going to bed at my preferred hour and would wait until the neighbours
themselves retired at one or two in the morning. I believe that this
contributed to my eventual ‘break down,’ the condition that made it very
difficult for me to function clearly (I had sinusitis at some point, which I
feel started the process). One night, I telephoned the police to ask if there
was anything they could do to help. I was told, flatly, ‘no,’ but advised to
contact the Council’s Noise Abatement team. This, I did, and was sent a pack
that included blank records to fill in listing each incident. They told me over
the phone that they only had one set of sound monitoring equipment. There was,
therefore, a three-month waiting list for this form of proof that the noise
level was high enough to justify taking any action. I told them not to bother
and that I would deal with the matter myself (which amounted to equal disregard
for the neighbours when I wished to listen to loud music). I filled out the
records anyway, but the noise eventually subsided and I, regrettably, discarded
them. After that, the noise conflict - the war - would henceforth last for
several months followed by periods of peace and quietude, sometimes total, and
sometimes relative.

Only a couple of hours after the 7/7
bombings in London I inadvertently forgot to press the button on the stereo to
turn the external sound off while listening to loud music in my headphones
(this had never happened before). After quarter-of-an-hour, I noticed that the
speaker had moved and what was sitting on top had fallen off. Realising my
mistake, I hurriedly switched the stereo off. Soon, after, when I went outside
to practice tai chi in the garden, the mother from the family next door spoke
to me, evidently worried, showing careful sympathy for the victims whose lives
had been taken. Indeed, the error appeared to have worked to my advantage and,
for some time afterwards, this selfish, ignorant family held steadfast to the
principle of peace.

“Cricket:
A game invented by religious fundamentalists to explain the idea of
eternal hell to non-Christian indigenous peoples of the former British
Empire.” - Joe O'Connor.

The father came across as being
self-righteous as result of his religion and his son displayed pride in the
Pakistan cricket team, clearly excited that they were beating England for a
while and then, with equal visibility, bowed his head in shame or humiliation
for a while after they lost. These allegiances to collective identities that
often appear to be in conflict with the values and principles of British
society culminated when the whole family began to involve themselves in a
Muslim political party in the local elections with the father running as a
candidate for local councillor. Yet, they evidently prefer living in Britain
where there is money to be made, education and huge 4x4s to be had. It feels as
if this is what living in Britain
means to them whilst culturally and socially they have little interest in
integrating, or valuing and recognising the cultural depth and diversity of Britain itself.
But, then, a friend from back ‘home’ (where I was raised – or buried, depending
how you look at it!) is always complaining of being surrounded by ‘chavs’! It
can also be argued that many British people themselves are shallow enough to
cling to national pride, particularly in the realm of sports, and resist the
breadth and depth of cultural delights available in this country. If I had to
choose between my neighbours and a bunch of aggressive hooligans ‘championing’
English football teams, I wouldn’t hesitate to side with the former to be quite
honest. Simply no contest.

The Pakistani colleagues with whom I
worked in cab firms shook their heads and distanced themselves from such
ignorant behaviour. I should point out that I have worked with people with
various Asian backgrounds and get on very well with most. It is true, however,
that those with whom I have not gotten on well have generally been from
Pakistan as well (although I am told that generally those people hail from a
less harsh region of the country). One former Pakistani colleague is a good
friend and lives not far from me. The tenant currently living above me in the
flat upstairs is a lovely person [Retrospective note: Or so it seemed at the
time!]. I also have a good online friend who lives in Pakistan (a Smashing
Pumpkins fan!). She is one of the most intelligent and imaginative people I
have ever known [Retrospective note: she ended up going mad and upsetting a
whole group of people on the internet and got so paranoid that she accused
myself and other friends of being part of this virtual gaming group that we had
never even heard of]. Asian bosses find it refreshing (easier) to work with
English people who are more likely to work hard and not lie, cheat and
manipulate. They might be more trustworthy in general: Protestant work ethic
and feudal conformity and all that. I am no pushover, however, and had to make
it clear that, giving me my freedom and independence was the only way to get
results. They never quite fully appreciated this principle but it was the only
way I could work.

A Scottish lady told me I was being
pathetic and should make myself at home in the neighbours’ house with a bottle
of whisky, creating my own party with them (in a loud but friendly way)! She
said that would probably shut them up. Some people are just brimming with
helpful advice! For example, in a flat-share situation, you either get on or
you don’t. There are more affordable rooms available and there is really little
choice but for one person to move out. Indeed, however, I am not, personally,
sharing a flat. I experimented with positive affirmations later on. Whenever I
calmly focussed my mind on the clear intention to do what was best to restore
the peace, I found myself taking uncharacteristically assertive but highly
effective action. My father told me, after I had tried communicating with them
about this issue the first time, that I was too polite. They had figured me to
be a pushover, in order words. I was too nice. I think that many English people
do come across as being weak or soft through our disciplined, tolerant,
reserved character (which is, arguably, waning). People from more direct
cultures do not realise that we will defend ourselves most ferociously when
pushed too far. Many of us just want to be left in peace to live relatively
independent lives (as islanders do). We accept that there is a certain price to
pay for relative peace and harmony.

I am not here to stir up negative
race relations; quite the opposite. I wish to promote harmony through increased
understanding. Hatred belongs to the swamp of ignorance. It bites you in the
dark and in the light of conscious awareness it shrivels into nothing because
it is nothing; nothing but an illusion which we are all destined to grow out of
as we mature towards knowing our true selves and all the beauty, power and love
that we are as expressions of the Creator.

Each culture has its high and low
qualities and those who rely too much on a culture (which includes religion)
for their identity appear to manifest the worst and those who express their own
individual potential and shine uniquely tend to use their own culture as well
as many other sources of inspiration to embody the best that the world has to
offer. I generally get on well with Asian people. It has been said of me that I
might be better off living in Asia because I
have more of an oriental nature. Consciousness is strong in me and this seems
to be an isolating feature in individualistic societies of the West. I did seem
to thrive in India.
I responded thankfully to the less fragmented collective consciousness there
and relied on it several times when I was in a fix. The way I see it, it’s the
people who lack character and gravitate to their racial or cultural genes who
cause grief for others. All cultures, including multi-racial societies, contain
a mixture of conscious individuals and subconscious stereotypes who conform to
a pattern of behaviour. Change is in the air and it is to younger generations
everywhere that we must look for the new paradigm of freedom and truth to open
up individual minds and transform collective consciousness.

“The community in which you find
yourself [Prashanti Niliyam] is the arena where you can win the victory. The
gymnasium where you develop the skill to win.”

“You learn by the experience of the
buffeting of the World.”

“The World is a very essential part
of the curriculum of man.”

“The World is like a hotel to which
we have come to experience the consequences of our actions in the past. The
body is a room in the hotel in which we have to undergo the Karmic
consequences.”

-
Sai Baba (quotations from The Sai
Dictionary of Quotations, placed in this sequence by ‘adeline108').

When I had my breakdown/breakthrough
or mid-life crisis, or whatever you want to call it, my therapist told me, at
the beginning of our second session, that she saw me as a Buddhist monk replete
with saffron robe but living in East London. She is highly psychic. I didn’t
feel like much of a monk at the time but I admit to being very monkish on and
off. I even used to fantasise about establishing monasteries around the world
and loved the idea of restoring a Daoist monastery in China if ever I
could afford to do so! A different time. Having known places where a high
vibration of spiritual energy is present I do feel that it would be wonderful
if there were more of them around. Trungpa describes a monastery as an ‘environment
of meditative discipline’ although he also cites things like a relationship to
a teacher as well as exertion as contributing factors in ‘losing one’s
ego-grasp.’ You “don’t gain anything but you see clearly because the
obscurations are removed,” he says. There is also strength in numbers. The
combined energies of spiritually-minded people create a power to be reckoned
with, at least one that negative spirits cannot easily penetrate. In our
secular society we are vulnerable and suffer more setbacks to our spiritual
aspirations. The atmosphere is not conducive to such development so most people
never feel any urge to even step foot on such a path. People sink down into
purely physical and materialistic levels of consciousness which are perhaps
relatively harmless in themselves but rational materialism at the expense of
higher pursuits is a something of a leaky drainpipe. The aqua vitae, water of life, slips away and dirt replaces it. Hence,
the rapid descent into darkness following the demise of Christianity. There’s
no energy here.

Master
Po (Keye Luke):
Your feet tread heavily on the ground. Have you a burden, Grasshopper?

Caine (David Carradine): It is my
thoughts that carry the weight, Master. I have been in the marketplace. All the
men there argue and fight. There is no peace.

Master
Po: Why does that
trouble you when your home is here?

Caine: I want all men to know peace.

Master
Po:[chuckles] It is written in the Daodejing.
Under heaven, all can see beauty as beauty only because there is ugliness. All
can know good as good only because there is evil. Therefore, having and not
having arise together. Difficult and easy complement each other. High and low
rest upon each other. Front and back follow one another.

Caine: But Master, do we not want all men
to know our peace, our joy?

Master
Po: Would you make
the whole world a temple? Be like the Sun and what is within you will warm the
Earth.

-
Kung Fu (Season 2, Episode 10, ‘The
Hoots,’ 1973).

"To follow the path of wisdom
has never been more urgent or more difficult. Our society is dedicated almost
entirely to the celebration of ego, with all its sad fantasies about success
and power, and it celebrates those very forces of greed and ignorance that are
destroying the planet. It has never been more difficult to hear the
unflattering voice of the truth, and never more difficult, once having heard
it, to follow it: because there is nothing in the world around us that supports
our choice, and the entire society in which we live seems to negate every idea
of sacredness or eternal meaning. So at the time of our most acute danger, when
our very future is in doubt, we as human beings find ourselves at our most
bewildered, and trapped in a nightmare of our own creation." - Sogyal
Rinpoche (The Tibetan Book of Living and
Dying, Rider & Co., London, U.K., 1992, p.128).

I have now come crashing down to
earth. Mediums have mentioned to me a previous life as a monk in the French
Alps and a more recent one in a Tibetan monastery. I was given a message from a
spirit who appears to be my principal guide. He complained that I was seeing
him as an old man with a long white beard and wanted me to think of him as the
younger adult he also was once. If this is real, then it looks as though ‘Wong
Su,’ managed to liberate himself from the wheel of karma while I remained laden
with karmic debts to clear and heavy lessons to learn. Never mind, eh?

Where better to leave the monastery
and increase one’s wisdom and practice truth than the ‘East’ - where I am
instinctively loved by certain people of Indian origin and, equally,
instinctively hated by the more aggressive kinds of people in these parts (such
as my neighbours). I could not have learned the lessons I have if I were
totally alone or surrounded either by loving people or those who respected my
space as I would theirs. I have had to condition my mind in response to
psychological warfare and a crisis of consciousness caused by physical
proximity day-in, day-out, yet without much direct confrontation. Had all this
taken place in a house share, for instance, direct communication would have
been inevitable because the ‘enemy’ and I frequently have been in each other’s
physical presence or have easy access to each other. It is just not such an
obvious solution to walk round next door and approach the neighbours,
especially when they clearly feel aggressive towards you for no apparent reason
and when they are from a different culture with which they identify and
therefore have very fixed views on life. Moreover, neighbours whom you just
know don’t care and are bent on making your life a misery if you dare to remain
there reminding them that they are living in Britain and are part of a much
wider world than their own closeted domain.

"To
assist others, first assist yourself. Do what you can by living in awareness,
by taking every opportunity to know more about the love of who you are as the
Divine Expression of the Source. And then, if it is your heart to do so, reach
out to assist others. But, you know, you assist others by being the truth of
who you are, not by preaching and not by trying to force somebody into your way
of thinking. Rather be an example of how you may change and transform your own
life. And, you know, it is to know that there is always another way to be in
any situation which in itself creates change. No matter what the situation, no
matter how boxed‑in you feel, no matter how trapped you feel in the situation,
there is always another way to be. By being another way, you will create a
different paradigm." - P'taah (channelled through Jani King, www.ptaah.com).

I am beginning to realise that,
however much I harp on about equality, I am part of a shift away from the
masculine emphasis in this world. I believe history has shown that we cannot
return to Light without first opening the heart and allowing consciousness to
flow through feeling, through the feminine, which is the foundation, the
circle. We may find the centre, the spirit, without the circle of life and
consciousness, but it is a very rare individual who can realise the spiritual
depths through a principally masculine path. These experiences have all been
about consciousness, the shadow side of the beauty, inspiration and spiritual
experience that I, unlike most people, particularly in Britain, am privileged
to enjoy. As a generally sensitive, gentle man, I have suffered ordeals similar
to those which many women experience. At least, I have had a taste of what our
male-flavoured society forces them to endure. There ought to be solidarity
between people who are not aggressive and who wish to enjoy quality of life
within and without. We need to live in a diverse civilisation but not one that
condones ignorant, selfish and disruptive behaviour. It is that social force
that holds people back by making them fearful and conforming instead of boldly
and confidently expressing their individuality. We are all unique but as long
as we remain repressed we all lay ourselves down flat like a two-dimensional
pattern on a carpet and therefore do not recognise our own unique potential.

There was a whole year during which
the neighbours made sure to bang on the wall of my bedroom each and every
night. I guessed that it was the daughters doing it without the parents’
knowledge but I could never be sure if they were in on it or not. The way they
have all blatantly conspired to harass me since leads me to wonder. By that
time, however, I was in the habit of staying up till one or two, even three in
the morning, so I just heard the noises between twelve and one am and did not
respond since it did not affect me (although I was well-aware of the disruption
to sleeping that was intended for me). [Retrospective note: this practice
resurfaced later when another young woman replaced the daughters as they left
home and continued for a good few years].

When you live in a one-bedroom flat
there is nowhere to escape to if the neighbours are bent on making a lot of
noise or antagonising you. I eventually discovered ear plugs which I used on
occasion, but I found them too uncomfortable to wear. I have managed to sleep
with them in a few times but, usually, I can’t sleep while wearing them.
Although they block out the noise, I still have to wait two or three hours
until the neighbours have retired. Once the coast is clear - once the din has
retreated for the night - I can remove them and go to sleep. The eldest
daughter living in the house had learned to play the tabla drum. After I had
lived here for a couple of years, she started playing them on special occasions,
such as religious festivals, weddings and birthdays to provide accompaniment
for group sing-songs. I don’t mean just for one evening. There would be some
practising during the day and then late-night drumming and singing two or three
times a week (eventually more) for a period of one or two weeks (eventually
even three or four weeks). The first few times, in the early days, I would be
understanding and listen to music in my headphones. I even slept in a sleeping
bag on the floor in the hall if I was too tired and needed to sleep before they
had finished.

Over time, with the general
animosity towards me and the selfish attitude towards my space, I could only
bring myself to tolerate one or two evenings of disruption at a time. I felt
that was adequately understanding of me; generous, in fact, considering the
volume and time. After that, however, I could not bear it any more. As you
might expect, such festivities rarely commenced before ten o’clock in the
evening. Neither were they necessarily confined to Friday and Saturday nights.
As time went on, the drum-playing grew even louder, much louder, and went on
until later. They were trying my patience and affecting my quality of life and
I dealt with the disturbance by disregarding their right to a quiet life on the
following day, playing music loudly on my stereo. It never felt like a very
negative act and the desire to listen to loud music usually had the purpose of
enjoying myself and compensating for getting up late and needing something
extra to wake myself up. Once the desire was there, I found that my voice of
self-control simply wasn’t there. There was no reason for me to be respectful
and use my headphones. And, there was every reason to retaliate and teach the
neighbours some respect even though that was not my actual motivation. Even so,
I thought it could work.

I telephoned the local Council again
and was informed that the Noise Abatement Team had now procured more sound
equipment. However, I was also told that, as a result of the changing social
landscape the waiting list is STILL three months! Naturally, they were receiving
more complaints about noise than ever. It is now nigh impossible to see someone
at the local Citizens Advice Bureau. I had to contact my local MP for something
in the end because people start queuing outside from 6 a.m. just to be dealt
with before they closed at 12 noon!
Turning up at 10 a.m., when they actually open three days a week is no longer
beneficial.

The guy to whom I spoke at the
Council did say that they could write a letter to my neighbours asking them to
keep the volume down but I said that might do more harm than good and that, for
all I knew, they might be nearing the end of their splurge of tabla-torture. He
also mentioned that they now had someone from the Noise Abatement Team on call
around the clock and that he or she would strive to visit and listen to the
noise within one hour. I considered calling a few times but, at that time,
although the volume was monstrous, it stopped at a more civil hour (the reason
being that, during the previous period, I had sworn repeatedly at them through
the wall and made their friends feel uncomfortable!). These Victorian (or
Edwardian) terraced houses were not designed for hi-tech televisions and
stereos but I guess no house is built for abuses of such systems. They weren’t
built for regular partying and tabla-drumming either. As I said, living in a
flat makes one vulnerable to noise from the neighbours. Evidently, ground-floor
flats and rooms in shared houses increase the vulnerability stakes.

Each time the parents went back to Pakistan for
two or three months, I had to endure the high volume from their television set.
Originally, their television was positioned close to my bedroom wall and could
be heard late at night, but it was never on too loudly to really disturb me.
Then, they bought one of these modern widescreen units and, I guess, the
temptation to have it on loud was just too great. I made them aware of the fact
that it was too loud (by turning the music on my stereo up) and they
subsequently moved it to the other room. Even so, loud noise is loud noise, and
I did not always tolerate such a high volume which prevented me from using my
only other room. Occasionally, they would go through spells of turning the TV
up and it could be heard intensely in the room where I work, relax and sleep.
One can only ignore a disturbing noise for so long before the irritation starts
getting under one’s skin, especially if one is trying to concentrate on
something, as I usually am. I prefer to live in peace and quiet at home and I
can cope with moderate noise. People have to live. But excessive volumes...I
mean, it depends where you live. Flats with thin walls require a bit more
consideration, just as living in shared housing does (or may). It’s just the
reality and needs to be accepted. I do sympathise to a degree. Perhaps flats
ought only to exist in blocks where every resident is in the same boat and is
fully aware of the interdependence in terms of space when it comes to noise
volume. If you are unable or unwilling to exercise self-restraint and respect
someone’s space in such an environment then, of course, you will need to
prepare for and endure the inevitable backlash.

ACompassion
is the keen awareness of the interdependence of all things.@
- Thomas Merton.

My neighbours moved to Britain in the
seventies and I believe that my landlords bought this house and turned it into
flats at the same time they bought the others and established their property
management company after the Second World War. I do not think there were
problems until I moved in and the undisciplined daughters and their allies
reached their late teens and chose to behave so irresponsibly. I still think
that the older of the two daughters was the monster. She moved out at some
point and the problems would commence or escalate when she moved back home
during the holidays. I believe that the younger daughter was conditioned by her
to some extent and grew up in her footsteps, ‘sworn’ into a conspiracy against
me. I have found her to be very friendly and the only one I could ever have a
normal conversation with. However, I realise that she is terribly two-faced
and, at the same time, I overheard some rather malicious things that came from
her mouth. So, of course, it would be naïve to suggest that she was not just as
nasty. But, she was, at least partially, influenced. Similarly, the son also
feigned friendliness whilst participating in the ‘violence,’ although it took
me a year or two to realise that. Until then, I had contemplated discussing the
matter with him. I’m glad I chose not to approach him. The parents were too
weak and proud and sided with the daughters, as did the other girl who moved in
with them. They live in their own little world and none of them are developing
their individuality (growing) as far as I’m concerned.

I found the family to be
self-righteous, with a stubborn superiority complex, and also to look down on a
single person living alone. I think it likely that in their culture I would be
a vulnerable target or weak and defective, not daring to protest at their
selfish and abusive attitude. What they never seem to grasp is that, by wishing
harm on me, my retaliations affect and surely disturb their whole family. While
it is true that they can escape upstairs and have never once had their sleep
disturbed by this conflict, I am strong-minded and have learned to switch off,
stay up later, or use headphones or earplugs, and so forth, to minimise the
suffering that has been inflicted on me. I have broken down several times,
however, with all these relentless, daily assaults from upstairs and next door.
There are both positive and negative results of this lengthy trial but I have
been permanently strengthened and wisened by the experience.

“Frankenstein
enters into a body building competition and finds he has seriously
misunderstood the objective.”

If the Pig Monster had been
approached by the neighbours they might have exaggerated my visit and polite
request to permit me a decent night’s sleep. If it was an act of revenge on
their part they might well have accused me of something that was untrue their
stubborn refusal to acknowledge that they were being selfish, proud and
downright hateful. The Pitiful Pig, of course, was so messed up that he
relished any excuse to accuse someone of deliberately mocking, offending or
attacking him, particularly someone who couldn’t stand up to him physically. He
saw his opportunity or his justification and was confident of getting what he
wanted. Perhaps they all felt threatened by me. My very presence, my vibration,
my way of life, my passion and sensitivity, disturbs them to the core. It is
they who are paranoid regardless of thin walls. Such weak-minded and hostile
people are described succinctly by Betty Perkins as “…lions who use anger to
move people to get what they want - those who criticise and blame others rather
than take responsibility and those who generally are pleasant but who sometimes
explode from stored up ‘stuff.’” (Lion Taming.
The courage to deal with difficult people including yourself, Tzedakah
Publications, CA, U.S., 1995, p.149).
They become the perpetrators of actual
persecution. Is what’s happening to you really happening to you, or are you
misinterpreting your circumstances?

“What
monstrosities would walk the streets were some people’s faces as unfinished as
their minds.” - Eric Hoffer.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Important topic

Did you know that this is the 12th and lowest universe in our multiverse and that it is founded on the energies of fear and suffering which were not resolved in the 11th?

Karma & Emotions

This e-book explores the opportunity for releasing deep emotional blockages from the past that crisis presents and the notion that this process of self-healing is an essential aspect of spiritual ascension (click the picture for more info & free pdf download)

What is, is; how we react is up to us!

"Life is 10 percent of what you make it and 90 percent of how you take it." - Irving Berlin.

☠

Visit my website: Antraeus.com

About Me

Born on 25 November 1965 and currently living in Yorkshire, England. I write songs and books and have a website that serves as a platform for my work as well as being an Ascension resource. The Treasure Chest displays all chapters of The Monstaville Memoirs trilogy as well as further insights from various sources relating to the themes of these books. The Powerlessness of Now reveals the many ways in which we have given our power away to the Establishment through its web of control.

“Someone asked, ‘Why is there suffering?’ [Meher] Baba gave this succinct reply: ‘Suffering is essential for the elimination of the ego, just as it was necessary for you to scrub and scrub in order to wash the stain from my coat.’" - Unkown.

Facebook Page

Translate

Search this blog

Subscribe to

Follow by Email

Let your faith be bigger than your fear!

“Strong souls aren't just born. They are built by forging through the most challenging perils in life and still having the ability to shine.“ – Anon.

Blog fonts

Refresh page for web fonts to appear if you're seeing only Times Roman hideousness.
To optimise the browsing experience for mobile blog viewers, Blogger serves a streamlined version of the blog page, which, among other resources, omits web fonts.

"Pain is inevitable...but misery is optional. We cannot avoid pain, but we can avoid joy." – Tim Hansel.

Disclaimer

I mean no copyright infringement by the posting of pictures, videos, etc. on this website. I do not in any way claim the rights of ownership to any of them. They totally remain the property of their respective owners. I have posted them purely for entertainment purposes. All written content, unless otherwise noted as being quotes or articles by other people, has been written and copyrighted by me. You are welcome to share any of my own work providing you include my name as the author, the title of the excerpt, if any, and preferably my website address as well (www.antraeus.com). Thanks

“The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.”- Joseph Campbell.